"Who's Daisy?"
I sighed, growing increasingly impatient with this exchange. "Daisy was our dog growing up."
"Ah." Audrey nodded sympathetically. "That's true, Jake. Dead does mean gone, but not necessarily gone forever. Daisy went to Heaven, and one day you'll see her—"
"So, was there something you wanted?" I cut her off, leveling her with a stony glare that didn't seem to affect her whatsoever.
"Oh! Yes, sorry," she waved her hand flippantly, as though embarrassed she'd gotten away with herself. "I wanted to ask what that meant, about the color. He said he liked my color."
I could steer her away from the conversation of spirituality, but it was more difficult to divert her attention from this when she'd already heard.
I encouraged Jake to wander ahead but close enough that I could keep an eye on him. The instructions put more intrigue into Audrey's watching stare and I took a deep, preparatory breath, knowing there'd be more questions to follow the initial explanation.
"One of the symptoms of Jake's condition, is that he associates colors with people," I said, keeping my voice low.
It had been the oddest thing. I remembered him in his hospital bed, and I remembered my parents, so afraid that he’d never talk or walk again. I remembered the shock that resounded throughout the room when he finally did speak, to let me know my color was red—angry. I’d been so angry at nobody but myself. Not scared, not worried. Just angry and so, so bitter. I was only ten and too young to feel so much hate. But those first words—“You’re red, Blake.” Nobody knew what they meant at the time. Nobody knew what to think. But we had clambered toward his bed, crowding around him with hugs and smiles.
I wished now that our brief moment of happiness and relief had lasted longer.
"Wow," she responded, astonishment in her eyes. "So ... he sees auras?"
I shrugged. "Whatever you want to call it."
"Well, what do you call it?"
I snorted. "I call it a symptom."
Audrey hummed contemplatively. "I'd call it a gift. A very special one. Not many people are given intuition like that. He's lucky."
This conversation wasn't going the way I had anticipated. "Lucky?" I scoffed as my eyes drifted to my brother. Thirty-four years old, six-foot-two, and jumping from puddle to puddle along the sidewalk. "I'm not sure where you get lucky from that."
Audrey gaped at me, a flash of anger darkening her gaze. "What an awful thing to say."
Startled by the harsh bite in her tone, I lowered my brows and glared right back. "Uh, excuse me?"
Pointing ahead at Jake, now fidgeting with his fingers and peering across the street at a Labrador walking with its owner, Audrey said, "Not only is he unburdened by the harsh reality of the world around him, but he has the gift of honest intuition and a brother who obviously adores him. That is the very definition of lucky, Blake, and it breaks my heart that you could actually look at him and say something like that."
Her statement felt like a slap in the face, and I was instantly ashamed. "I guess that's one way to look at it," I said thoughtfully.
Audrey smiled then and changed the subject. "I'm actually a little surprised to find that you're a twin."
I stuffed my hands into my pockets. "Why?"
"Because," she said, shrugging shyly and watching her feet, "Sabrina was my twin."
My toe caught a crack in the sidewalk, and I stumbled, reaching out to steady myself against a storefront. Audrey grabbed my arm in her hands and asked, "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," I said, righting myself. "Uh, so you’re a twin, huh?"
"Yep," she nodded. "We weren't identical, like you guys, but we looked alike enough."
I was behaving like an idiot as I remained silent and let the moment process. I pretended to be distracted by Jake, watching him drag his finger along the storefront windows, while I found myself thinking a question I hadn't thought in decades.
What does it all mean?
It meant nothing, of course. It was just another coincidence to toss onto the ever-growing pile. But the thought felt natural, racing around my mind as we walked closer to Jake's daycare. Would she continue to walk with me, after he was dropped off? Would she follow me to work like a lost puppy, desperate to be taken in?
Lost. I'm the one who’s lost.
"Has he always been like this?"
Audrey's voice fractured my thoughts and I turned to her abruptly. "Huh?" She gestured toward Jake and my flesh prickled with immediate defense. "No," I spat out. "He hasn’t. Why?”
Unfazed, she smiled toward my brother. "He's incredibly sweet. Is it just you two?"
"No. Our parents are alive."
"Do they live with you?"
I wrinkled my nose. "What is this, an interrogation?"
Audrey's laugh was brighter than the sun. "No! Oh my gosh, you're so—"
"This is our stop," I cut her off, as we neared Jake's daycare.
Her eyes glanced toward the building and I thought I noticed a glimmer of recognition sparkle in her eyes, but it disappeared quicker than I had time to react. "Oh, okay. I'll wait here for you, if you don't mind."
I minded. I minded so much, my brain screamed with obscenities and my bones tensed beneath my skin. But outwardly, I shrugged nonchalantly, as if I didn't care. Like I didn't want her to get the hell away from me. Like I didn't want her to burrow in the palm of my hand so I could carry her with me everywhere.
"Yeah, sure. I'll just be a couple minutes."
She gave Jake a hug and wished him a good day, before perching herself on the cobblestone wall and pulling out her phone, averting her attention until I'd return. I took just a second to look at her light washed jeans, the white Adidas on her feet and the baggy lavender sweater hanging over her slender frame. She reminded me of the girls in high school, so many years ago. The ones who held themselves out of my reach, exchanging dirty glances and whispering insults. Freak, goth, creep. They had wanted nothing to do with me, and that was just fine, the feeling had been mutual. They were fake, ingenuine, plastic, and plastic breaks. Plastic melts to reveal the ugly wiring beneath the surface.
Yet, while Audrey reminded me of them aesthetically, something told me the resemblance stopped at the surface. And I knew, if she continued to wait, if she continued to walk by my side to work, I would likely want to see her again. Just as the good doctor instructed. And, I would do it while ignoring the warnings that she was light, she was good, and that I was the darkness looming in the near distance, just dying to snuff her out.
***
"Wasn't that Butterfly Tattoo Chick?" Cee asked, her eyes trained on the front window. Together we watched Audrey walk away, her feet moving along the air, practically floating with every step.
"Yeah."
Before Audrey could disappear, she waved one last time, wiggling her fingers with optimistic flourish and smiling like our walk had been a journey through Disneyland.
"What the hell are you doing with Butterfly Tattoo Chick?" Celia turned her attention on me, her lips stretching in a judgmental smirk.